


the smoke inside her lungs

by Eiprej



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Recreational Drug Use, first time drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 09:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6606277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eiprej/pseuds/Eiprej
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So her fingers take the joint between Rachel’s, her other hand combing nervously through her own blonde locks of hair. Rachel smiles at her, all warmth and sunshine, sliding a hand onto her knee. Her heart does that thing again, that nervous ripple that causes her mouth to dry up and palms to sweat and shit, she's almost concerned the joint is going to soak up all the moisture in her hands and Rachel will know the effect she has on Chloe. </p>
<p>( It's not a logical thought -- it makes no fucking sense, none at all. But when she's with Rachel, anything seems like it can make sense. The world could be burning and if Rachel were there, Chloe would think it makes perfect sense. )</p>
            </blockquote>





	the smoke inside her lungs

**Author's Note:**

> happy 4/20 B) have this short little drabble i posted up on tumblr. i touched it up a lot; it was originally a vent fic, because Chloe is #relatable, and so I just took it and touched it up for the purpose of posting it. and also 4/20.   
> this fic should otherwise be titled "chloe price is a mess and only digs herself into a deeper hole, the drabble"

Chloe tries to not think about it too hard, the first time. It’s an effort that’s mostly wasted.

At first, it’s all about trying something new. Rachel reassures her that it’s fine, reassures her that if she doesn’t want to, she doesn’t _have_ to. As much shit as Rachel’s brought to Chloe, she’d never force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do. The thought leaves her half warm, half built up with gnawing worry.

She could say that Rachel really cares, or she could say that Rachel is taking her hesitation as weakness. She wouldn’t know just yet. It's not like she's spent that much time with Rachel, even though every moment feels like a lifetime, every hour spent with her gives her that giddy sensation in her gut, boiling and throbbing through her veins, like fire. Whenever she's with Rachel it's like she can feel her heart fluttering, again, which is bad. It's terrible. Chloe isn't ready to get hurt again. But she can't help but cling, latch onto whatever hope Rachel is giving her like it's the last beautiful thing the universe will give her. 

( She wonders when the universe will take it away. When Rachel will be violently ripped away from her hands, leaving them scarred and shredded and bloody, broken and raw like the torn up shreds of her heart. It's those thoughts that get her in the middle of the night, in the time where she remembers William's voice and Max's stupid false promises. )

But regardless of whether or not she's known Rachel for just a few months, it _feels_ like Rachel cares. Rachel's good at that, at making Chloe feel wanted and cool and like she's not some kind of washed up kid with a dead father. So even in this situation, she finds a way to make Chloe feel like she's legitimately concerned. Worried about her. It's more than anyone bothers anymore; Joyce is tired of her outbursts. Rachel handles them with ease.

But that's what it felt like with Max, too. Max, with a big heart of gold and a soft smile. Max, who she’d known far longer than the few months she’s spent with Rachel. 

Max, who’d left. Max, who after an entire year and then some, still hadn’t bothered to call. Or email. Or anything.

How can she be so sure Rachel cares, when she couldn’t even figure Max out?

So her fingers take the joint between Rachel’s, her other hand combing nervously through her own blonde locks of hair. Rachel smiles at her, all warmth and sunshine, sliding a hand onto her knee. Her heart does that thing again, that nervous ripple that causes her mouth to dry up and palms to sweat and  _shit,_ she's almost concerned the joint is going to soak up all the moisture in her hands and Rachel will know the effect she has on Chloe. 

( It's not a logical thought -- it makes no fucking sense, none at all. But when she's with Rachel, anything seems like it can make sense. The world could be burning and if Rachel were there, Chloe would think it makes perfect sense. )

She has one brow quirked up. She has dimples. Chloe thinks she’s gorgeous, and she almost forgets to take a huff off the joint. 

“You’re sure about this, Chlo?” Rachel asks in a voice that already seems too silky smooth, that runs soothingly over all the worried bumps and ridges in her brain, almost the same way her hands run over Chloe’s bumps and bruises after long sessions at the skate park.

Chloe wishes she could blame how pretty she thinks Rachel is on the weed, but she hasn’t even smoked it yet. All Chloe does is grin wryly at Rachel, allowing her eyes to fall on the burning joint. It smells, straight up smoke and something skunky in nature.

She wonders if later on, it won't bother her so much. If it'll stick to her clothing like perfume, squeeze out of her pores like sweat, like it's become a part of her. She thinks this and thinks about how she won't mind, if Rachel's there with her the whole time. If she likes this as much as she likes Rachel, it won't be much of a problem at all.

“Duh,” Chloe responds, maybe a little too late, because Rachel squeezes her knee. “I’m not a kid.”

She doesn’t tell Rachel she still feels like one.

She takes her first hit off the joint, and it _burns_ , like fire in her chest and through her nose. But it’s not nearly as bad as it could be. It’s not nearly as bad as the hurt clawing at her chest in bed at night, when she thinks too hard.

She holds in the smoke until her eyes water, lungs burning and pleading for air.

She holds it until Rachel tells her it’s okay.


End file.
